Boogeyman in the closet
by cherrishish
Summary: A little one-shot fic I had written for a competition. The prompts used are posted in my profile if you are interested. The story is about Riza finding out about Pride and how she deals with it.


No one has ever accused Riza Hawkeye of being a coward. As the most effective sniper of the Ishvalan War of Extermination she had done plenty of things that are unadvisable for the faint of heart. She was only nineteen at the time, hadn't even graduated from the military academy, but her marksman scores rivaled even of those already in the field. So she was called out to the front. Arriving there felt like as if she was shipped to an alien planet, ordered to kill these demonized, albeit defenseless men with their dark skin and red eyes.

In reality they themselves were the demons. Murdering women, elderly and children alike among the desert towns. A true massacre. The battlefield was in a constant orange-red haze from all the explosions. She realized soon enough that most were caused by the Flame Alchemist. He must have seemed like a true beast in the Ishvalan's eyes. One that she had helped to create. She was the one who decided to reveal the secrets of the tattoo on her back to him. Of course at the time Riza had no idea that Roy would be forced to use his talents in such a way. Young naivety on her part, which she had outgrown since.

The blond woman had many crosses to bear, each marking her like a harbinger of death. The top brass considered her a decorated hero, providing a stark contrast in opinion. Guilt and cognitive dissonance was a permanent facet of her life. It felt like dressing up in fancy clothes, with gold and rubies, while hiding behind a skull mask.

Despite her battle hardened soul – or exactly for this reason, since her memory held a vast array of horror inducing experience on which her overactive imagination could capitalize on in this situation – her heart was racing frantically as she trotted home on the deserted streets of Central City a wee few minutes before midnight. She had the distinct feeling that someone was following her. Even the hairs on the back of her neck stood up as she passed by the Ford T-models parking on the street. The slightest rustle caused her to whip her head around, and in the dancing light of the gas lamps at the edge of alleyways she regularly thought to see someone standing in the shadows. Her paranoia wasn't completely unfounded though.

The Lieutenant was just coming from Führer Bradley, the leader of Amestris. She had been "promoted" to being his personal assistant a few days ago. She had to deliver some urgent paperwork to be read by her boss on this late hour. In case you were wondering why was a highly combat trained officer playing secretary for the first man of the country, the answer is quite simple – or rather complicated depending on your point of view: Her real commanding officer – Colonel Roy Mustang – and his team had ventured too close to unearthing the conspiracy on which their whole country was founded, running high up in the brass. Because of this, in order to keep the Flame Alchemist in check, all his subordinates were reassigned to different posts all over the country, mostly to active warzones, while his right-hand and bodyguard, Hawkeye, was practically forced into a hostage situation in her current job.

They had discovered that the Führer – and a few other individuals pulling the strings from the background – were not humans but rather homunculi, artificial humanoid beings created by alchemy. Their exact plan was still a mystery, but one thing was sure. They needed the Colonel as a "sacrifice". They wouldn't have bothered with this warped situation otherwise. The rest of them were just means to an end. They were expendable, but they knew that Mustang would go berserk if something were to happen to them.

The newest shock the Lieutenant had to face was the identity of one of the homunculi. None other than Selim Bradley, the Führer's son. This innocent looking black-haired nine year old was the first and probably the most sadistic of them all. Like all homunculi he had a special ability, manipulating shadows. His body practically merged with them. No wonder that her chocolate brown eyes believed to see him in every dark nook.

The murderous intent from the boy was the first warning sign to Hawkeye, it startled her as she was handing over the documents to the Führer's wife. Then his step-mother's unassuming blabbering planted the seed in her mind that something was awfully off about him. Pride, as he calls himself, had no choice but to reveal himself to her a few minutes later outside as she was leaving, making some unveiled threats to her. As he stood there in the tabernacle, the sight reminded her of the imaginary monsters in her closet when she was a little girl. She used to shove plates of food in there so that they wouldn't come out and eat her instead. Her figurative closet had grown full of monsters over her adult years that she had learn how to keep inside. Pride would be the newest addition to that assemble now.

But alas killing the hostage would be rather wasteful this early in the game. There were many things on this earth worse than death. Like having to look over your shoulder constantly, never being able to rest or letting your guard down. A life almost not worth living. Surely that was exactly what he intended to give her, the feeling that she was at his absolute mercy. His last words to her punctuated that notion and got particularly stuck in her mind.

 _Just remember Lieutenant: No matter where you are, I'll be watching you… from the shadows._

Riza knew that getting this new intel somehow to Mustang was imperative but she had no idea how to manage this feat without alerting their enemies. Not feeling particularly inclined to go home yet as she felt too jittery, she let her instincts take over in guiding her as she roamed around to burn off the anxiety. Pft, like that was possible. A couple of blocks later music hit her ears.

 _Here we belong, fighting to survive_

 _In a world with the darkest powers_

The lyrics were so aptly suitable to her current predicament that the sniper actually chuckled. She realized that she had wandered to Madame Christmas's bar, the place of origin of the rock ballad. She was Roy's aunt, although very few people knew of the familial connection. It was a multi-layer business, founded by the Xingese woman years ago, before business ethics were invented. Not that it has spread widely since, but that was beside the point. To the wider public it was merely a watering hole for patrons to visit for some late evening drinking. Those part of a few select circles knew the code words to be spoken at the bar to gain access to some more… private… services. Namely hookers. It was also a brothel.

But that was still just a clever front to their real activities. Women were always underestimated, especially working girls. The Madame's girls were part of her intelligence network to which only a handful of trusted people had access. Among them were the Colonel, Riza and General Grumman, the leader of the Eastern Command Center, not to mention Hawkeye's maternal grandfather. That too was a highly unpublicized piece of knowledge.

Hawkeye smiled to herself, a plan already taking hold in her mind. There was absolutely nothing suspicious about getting a drink to calm her nerves after the night's event. Although alcohol was the farthest from her thoughts at the moment. She needed to stay sharp and on top of her game.

As she entered the wood covered interior of the juke joint she pondered further on the lyrics of the song that was still playing. It was oddly applicable to the homunculi. They seemed have a sense of grandeur, drunk on the power they possess. Feeling entitled to be the rulers the world, toying with people's lives for their own gain. It left her profoundly helpless. Her guns meant nothing to immortals or nearly indestructible beings.

The sniper shuddered as she remembered her encounter with Gluttony at the watch tower when they wanted to draw these monsters out. No matter how many bullets she fired at him, he just kept coming, regenerating within seconds. Same with Lust later on in the tunnel system under the city. Both times she had to be saved by Roy's flame alchemy. Riza had a new found appreciation for the word "useless" and how it made the Colonel feel on rainy days when she said it to him, as his dampened ignition cloth gloves couldn't make a spark and he couldn't use his alchemy.

On the other hand the same could be said of alchemists too, even though their talents were meant to be utilized for the good of people. Especially State Alchemists strayed from this path, often regarded as the dogs of the military. Mustang struggled with the malicious gossip on a day to day basis.

"What can I get you, darling?" – Chris asked from her as she sat down on one of the stools by the bar. – "Something from the tap?"

In an establishment like this everything had a double meaning. Their code utilized the menu and innocent small talk. Clever and utterly undecipherable. The Madame's question inquired whether this was a social call of sorts or there was something more going on. Although with Riza one could be sure that it was the latter. She wasn't one for drinking.

"I could appreciate something stronger this evening." – the blonde replied with a sigh, meaning _I_ _need your help_.

"Trouble in paradise, hm?" – the plump older woman quirked her brow as she whisked out a bottle of scotch. _Is Roy involved?_

People who were close to them liked to imagine that they were an item given their history. Roy used to be the apprentice of Riza's father, Berthold Hawkeye. He even lived with them for a number of years while learning alchemy. They had no idea just how right they were. At the workplace they were mere colleagues. Friends and comrades. The military's anti-fraternization laws wouldn't have allowed for their relationship to blossom officially, and with his ambition to climb to the top it shouldn't have been worth risking. And yet they did. They had been secretly married for two years. Though they didn't live together. Nor filed the wedding certificate. The Madame was one of the very few who knew and her discretion was unquestionable.

"You could say that. Although it's mostly just the new job, new city. I miss my friends from East City." – _Get in touch with Grumman to send someone, he will know who._ Rebecca Catalina's visit, if she initiated it, wouldn't raise any red flags even in the current circumstances. They had been friends for years. They had their own personal code of sorts too so she could pass on any information needed and she would find a way to get it to the others inconspicuously.

"Must be scary with all these changes in your life." – the bartender hummed knowingly pushing the glass of whiskey towards her. Riza had no doubt that Chris had the means to know that she was reassigned.

"You have no idea! Sometimes I feel like I can't trust my own shadow." – this wasn't strictly part of their code, but conveyed multiple layers of meaning. Literally and figuratively too. She hoped very much that Christmas would get it. _Grave danger. Trust no one. Someone might be listening in even at this moment. There is someone who can manipulate shadows and could be here right now, and I literally don't trust my own shadow._

That last one was wishful thinking, without context the Madame wouldn't be able to guess that hint, but she was a smart woman, Hawkeye was sure she got the gist of it.

"Though I knew what I signed up for when I joined the military." – Riza added after a moment as she pretended to sip on her drink. _Mustang is my priority, pushing him to the top, and there is no amount of danger that could deter me from following through with it. Even if I die in the process._ Everyone knew she would jump in front of a bullet if that's what it took to protect the Colonel.

"See that's why I love this job. The bartender's never killed." – Christmas laughed out humorlessly as she shuffled away to tend to another patron. _I prefer to operate from the shadows where no one can see me, or make me an obvious target and thus come after my life._ The sniper wished that was true and the Madame wouldn't be dragged into the messier parts of this endeavor, now that even the shadows felt like an unsafe place, no longer keeping one hidden. Coming here right after her encounter with the boogeyman might have been a mistake.

The bartender returned shortly, lighting a cigarette, but they no longer engaged in conversation. Hawkeye toyed around with her glass. Her work here was done, the message would be delivered so after a moment of pondering she downed the fiery drink despite her earlier decision and left some change on the bar top for the tab. She definitely could use a little numbness but that particular blessing wouldn't be gracing her. There was no amount of alcohol that could calm her nerves at the moment.

Riza nodded to the Madame and took her leave, this time heading straight home. The experience hadn't changed, she was still just as jumpy. The cobblestoned streets and matching grey town buildings were irrevocably alien and spooky to her on this night. The Lieutenant hastened her steps, pulling her coat closer around herself over her blue uniform.

She could hear her dog, Black Hayate, bark as her keys rattled against the door and the black-white Shiba Inu jumped on her legs the minute she got in sight. The sniper slumped onto the floor after she had her door locked and the lights on in her apartment, hugging her loyal companion to her chest, trying to find some comfort in his furry warmth.

Even now she felt like the shadows were about swallow her up, like tentacles drawing her underwater, suffocating her. This helplessness was annoying the sniper to no end. Roy always regarded his men like chess pieces, with different strengths that aided him in this grand game of reaching the top. Hawkeye was supposed to be his trump card, the queen. But right at this moment she felt like a lamb among wolves, not someone who was able to accomplish anything on this play field.

Chess was predictable in some ways, there were a clear set of rules and variables. Her reality more closely resembled those games kids were into these days, with dragons, orcs, mages and those twelve and twenty sided dice. Not in the sense that these didn't have rules but that she didn't understand them and couldn't predict what was coming.

Hawkeye felt utterly trapped. The last time she had this little control over her destiny was when she still lived with her father. He wasn't particularly abusive to her. More like negligent. There was this one song she always listened to. It was neither uplifting, nor popular, but she felt like listening to it again so she reluctantly got back up, holding onto the wall to steady herself.

She found the record pretty quickly on the shelf she kept her music and set it on her old gramophone that she salvaged from their house in the countryside after her father died. That was the day she was finally able to escape.

As the familiar guitar solo started she let the music take her mind back to her childhood, singing the lyrics along that she knew by heart.

 _Let me go_

 _Let me go_

 _Let me seek the answer that I need to know_

 _Let me find a way_

 _Let me walk away_

 _Through the Undertow_

 _Please let me go_

Black Hayate whined confusedly at the uncharacteristic display his master was putting on, which made the sniper chuckle in spite of her mood. Riza leaned against the table, her head swaying slightly to the melody.

 _Let me fly_

 _Let me fly_

 _Let me rise against that blood-red velvet sky_

 _Let me chase it all_

 _Break my wings and fall_

 _Probably survive_

 _So let me fly_

 _Let me fly..._

This truly used to be her song. Hawkeye had led such a sheltered life in her youth. She was never allowed to leave the house, only for grocery runs, she never interacted with her peers or tried out anything new because her father wouldn't hear of it.

 _Let me run_

 _Let me run_

 _Let me ride the crest of chance into the sun_

 _You were always there_

 _But you may lose me here_

 _Now love me if you dare_

 _And let me run_

Truthfully this verse in later years reminded her of Roy, after he left his apprenticeship and their house. They weren't officially a couple back then but after he joined the military he had sent her a letter asking her to forget about him. She had cried herself to sleep for weeks after that.

 _I'm alive and I am true to my heart now - I am I,_

 _but why must truth always make me die?_

Her thoughts wandered. Ironic really. Riza was no alchemist but having grown up in a household were this particular science was in high regard she understood many of the concepts inherent to it. Equivalent exchange. Alchemical Truth that governed the equivalence of these exchanges. The Elrics spoke of it passingly too, meeting this living God of sorts after attempting human transmutation. The ultimate truth came at a very high price. Nothing could really measure up to the value of human life. A human soul. No wonder it was taboo. What a horrific experience to be in the grip of it. Especially at such a young age. It was a miracle that even survived such a risky endeavor, spoke miles about their genius in the field of alchemy.

 _Let me break!_

 _Let me bleed!_

 _Let me tear myself apart I need to breathe!_

 _Let me lose my way!_

 _Let me walk astray!_

 _Maybe to proceed..._

 _Just let me bleed!_

For a moment she let the despairing tone of the song wash over her but somehow her heart wasn't that into it anymore.

 _Let me drain!_

 _Let me die!_

 _Let me break the things I love I need to cry!_

 _Let me burn it all!_

 _Let me take my fall!_

 _Through the cleansing fire!_

 _Now let me die!_

 _Let me die..._

Let me die… What? No! – she exclaimed inwardly.

 _Let me out_

 _Let me fade into that pitch-black velvet night_

Hawkeye never considered herself particularly suicidal, and she found that she no longer could identify with the song that was so prominent to her early life. She steeled her heart with new found determination.

The blonde unclipped her hair clasp, letting her tresses fall unto her shoulder. She looked down at her dog as she lifted the needle off the record, a fond smile tugging at her lips. No. She had way too much to live for to give up now, before anything was decided. She wasn't going to go down without a fight. But she knew that in heart all along.

Black Hayate yipped at her approvingly, very attuned to her moods, realizing that his owner was no longer as gloomy as before. Everything was going to be alright in the end. Somehow. And then the phone rang.


End file.
